089

The alarm blares. Some screechy, terrible noise that makes you wince before your brain even catches up to being awake.

Eddie groans like he's being murdered. "No. Absolutely not. This is inhumane."

You smile with your eyes still closed, warmth curling in your chest as his arm tightens around you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hot and heavy against your skin, his body melting into yours like he's trying to fuse you together.

"Turn it ooooff", he mumbles, voice low and gravelly and wrecked with sleep, "Make it go away."

You giggle softly, still too sleepy to move. "That's your job, Munson."

"No", he grumbles, "I reject that reality." He tightens his grip, pulling you impossibly closer, his chest against your back, his thighs tangled with yours under the blanket. His hand finds your waist, warm and rough and gentle, fingers spreading across your skin. You can feel the scratch of his beard on your shoulder, the rise and fall of his breath. The heat of him everywhere. He smells like sleep and sex and your shampoo and home.

You hum, letting yourself melt back into him for just a second more. "You smell so good."

"So do you", he mutters, still refusing to move, lips brushing lazily against your neck. "Don't make me go. Please. School is stupid. I already know everything. What's the point."

You smile wider, heart bursting with how much you love his grumpy, half-dead morning self. "You have to graduate, rockstar."

"Ugh", he groans, arm flopping over your stomach dramatically, "You sound like Wayne."

You snort, "That's because Wayne is right."

"No", he mumbles again, "Only you're allowed to be right."

You twist in his arm to face him, eyes fluttering open to see his sleep-rumpled curls, his scruffy jaw, the little crease between his brows like the universe personally offended him with this alarm.

He's perfect. Stupidly, unfairly perfect. Still naked and warm from last night's love-drunk haze.

You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

He tilts his head, catching your lips properly, kissing you slow and sleepy and full of grumpy little hums. His hand lazily trails up your side, as the alarm continues its shrill insistence in the background.

"Eds", you whisper between kisses, "we have to get up."

He leans down and starts kissing your neck instead, growling into your skin like he's seconds away from dragging you under the covers again. "Five more minutes. Just five."

You hum in agreement, knowing full well five minutes will turn into ten. Into fifteen. But you don't care. You're wrapped in Eddie Munson's arms, naked, safe, loved, in your bed at home.

After everything, everything, you're here.

Back at home. With Billy and Neil Hargrove in custody.

You finally shift and reach over him to smack the alarm off.

The silence that follows is instant relief.

Eddie exhales like he's been released from purgatory. "You're an angel."

"You're an idiot", you tease.

"I'm in hell", he says, kissing your bare shoulder. "A hell where I have to put on pants and pretend I don't want to be inside you all day."

You bark a laugh and he grins against your skin, proud of himself. "Come on", you murmur, nuzzling against his nose. "Get up before Wayne wakes up and catches you skipping school naked. Again."

"He wouldn't even be surprised."

"True."

"So... let's skip?"

"Babe, we are not skipping today. Come on."

Eddie groans like a man being asked to climb Everest and rolls onto his back, flinging an arm dramatically over his face. "Okay", he groans, "but just so you kow, this is the worst day of my life."

You prop yourself up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around your waist. "Wow. Worse than the time you tripped onstage and knocked over your amp mid-solo?"

"That amp was out to get me, Sam, and you know it."

You snort softly, and Eddie peeks at you from under his arm, his eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, but filled with warmth. You lean down and kiss his stomach, right over the spot you know makes him flinch.

He twitches instantly. "Cruel", he mutters, but he's smiling, one hand drifting up to your hair as you pepper more kisses along his torso.

"I'm being nice", you murmur between kisses, "this is encouragement."

"Encouragement? Feels like sabotage..."But he lets you do it anyway, his hand lazily petting through your hair, eyes slipping closed again.

When you pull back, he peeks at you, completely unguarded. "You're gonna be the death of me", he rasps, grinning as you sit up and reach for the scattered clothes in front of his bed.

You smirk, "Get dressed, Munson," then toss one of his shirts at his face.

H groans again, dragging it over his head like it's a chainmail suit.

Once dressed, you both stumble into the bathroom, barefoot and still yawning.

The cold tile floor does nothing to wake him up as he trudges in behind you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand like a disgruntled toddler.

You flick the light on and he hisses like a vampire, dramatically shielding his face. "Cruel. Again."

You giggle, already grabbing both your toothbrushes and handing him his with a smirk. He grunts in thanks, unceremoniously flipping the toilet seat up and starting to pee with zero shame, eyes barely open. "Wow", you comment, toothbrush in your mouth, foam gathering at the corners of your lips. "Romance isn't dead."

Eddie groans, finishing up and shuffling over to the sink, muttering, "This is what true love looks like, sweetheart. Just raw, unfiltered misery."

You snort, poking his side as he starts brushing his teeth, watching the way his curls bounce with every irritated chew of the bristles. He glares at you in the mirror, foam in the corner of his mouth, already annoyed.

"You're really gonna poke the bear?", he mumbles around the toothbrush.

You grin and poke him again. "Just making sure the bear's awake." He grunts, mouth full of toothpaste. You bump your hip against his. He bumps back. You do it again, this time a little harder, until he finally turns and glares down at you.

"Stop it", he tries to say through his mouthful of minty foam, but it comes out garbled and even funnier.

You laugh out loud, rinse your mouth, and then, without warning, grope his ass with both hands.

Eddie chokes on his toothpaste, spitting into the sink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, while already turning to you. Before you can dart away, he grabs you around the waist. "You little shit", he mutters with affection, hoisting you up with ease and plopping you onto the sink.

You yelp in delight, immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, arms slung around his neck. "Looking very awake now", you tease, nose brushing his.

He narrows his eyes, corner of his mouth twitching. "I hate how much I love you when you're like this."

"Cute?"

He snorts. "More like, annoying. A menace. Pure chaos. Evil incarnate."

You lean in, pressing your minty lips to his. "You're so dramatic in the mornings."

"I'm dramatic all the time", he retorts, leaning into your kiss while curling his fingers into your sweatshirt. "And you love it. That's what you fell for at first."

"Mhm, maybe I did", you whisper, smiling against his lips.

He groans lowly and kisses you again, slow and full of sleepy affection, your fingers tangling in his curls as your lips part against his. He pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth. "We're gonna be late. We are late already."

You smirk, kissing him again. "Yeah, because you keep on setting your alarm way too late, Munson."

He grins wickedly, then kisses you again like he has all the time in the world. Your smirking lips move against his, your arms stay loosely wrapped around his neck. "God, I missed this", he mumbles, nose nudging yours.

"Being grumpy before school?", you tease softly.

He snorts. "No. This. Us. Home. You annoying the hell outta me in the bathroom before I even had a coffee."

You smile, brushing a stray curl from his cheek. "It's good to be home."

By the time you both step outside, the ice cold late-November morning air immediately smacks you in the face. Your breaths puff out like smoke, Eddie lighting an actual cigarette with a shiver, the cherry glowing bright in the early light.

You both hold mugs of hot coffee in your hands. An unspoken ritual. Wayne setting it up when coming home after his night shifts, and you two having yours together in the car on your way to school. Yours is full of too much creamer, his is strong enough to put hair on your chest.

You munch on a cereal bar, keys dangling from your hand as you unlock your car one-handed. "God, it's freezing", you mumble around the granola, and Eddie just grunts.

He drops dramatically into the passenger seat with a sigh like he just finished a world tour. Cigarette tucked between his lips, coffee between his hands, head lolling back against the seat. "I'm too pretty for mornings."

You snort and start the car. The engine groans, the heater even worse, but the windows are only a little frosted, so you roll with it.

The trailer park fades behind you as you drive.

Neither of you talk much. Not because you don't want to, but because you're both trying not to think about what you're driving toward.

Your first day back at school.

After the motel. After the tape recorder. After Billy's arrest last Friday. After his father found you Sunday night. After his hands grabbed your wrist in the supermarket parking lot, spitting venom, calling you names, daring you to take it all back. After disappearing for days and only coming back to Hawkins now that Billy's father Neil was arrested in California.

Wayne warned you yesterday. Over dinner, he was steady and calm, but you saw it in his eyes. He hated what you were walking back into. Hated that Hawkins, this place he'd lived his whole damn life, could be so cruel. Could swallow the truth whole and spit it back out twisted and rotten.

"They're gonna talk, kiddo", he said, voice low, "They already are. People got nothin' better to do, and they're pickin' sides without knowin' a damn thing."

Now, here you are, with your name in every mouth like it's dirty. Like it's a curse word.

You can feel it crawling over your skin. Their judgment, their whispers, their disbelief.

You feel the eyes before you even pull into the school parking lot. It's like the air shifts. People outside, grouped in clusters, heads snapping toward your car.

Whispers. Eyes. Cold shoulders.

You glance at Eddie.

He's got his second cigarette between two fingers, his jaw is tense, those dark eyes hard as stone. He's going to kill someone today. Or at least try to.

You kill the engine.

And for a second, neither of you move.

You both just glance through the dirty windshield.

Then Eddie leans over, presses a kiss to your temple, his hand resting warm and grounding on your thigh.

"Ready?"

No. Never.

But you nod.

The two of you step out of the car, and it's like stepping into a fishbowl.

Everyone is looking. Some pretend not to. Some don't bother.

Across the lot, you spot Max Mayfield. Billy's red haired stepsister you met at his home some times. She's leaning against her skateboard, arms crossed, pretending to be detached. But her eyes meet yours, and in that single glance, something flickers.

Not pity. Not sympathy.

Understanding.

You and Eddie walk shoulder to shoulder, his arm around you, his presence a storm cloud about to burst. His stare dares anyone to even look at you wrong.

You can hear the whispers behind your back.

Whore

Liar

Attention-seeking little slut

Why would Billy do that? He's hot. He could have anyone.

She's just mad he didn't want her anymore.

You try not to look. Try to focus on the pavement. But it's impossible not to see the stares. The way conversations quiet as you pass. The way people look at you. Like you're guilty. Like you're shameful. Like you made it all up.

You lean into Eddie without realizing it. He grips you tighter, his ringed fingers curling around your hip.

The hallway isn't any better.

The second you step inside, it's like a wave of sound crashes over you. Sudden hushes followed by urgent whispers, footsteps pausing, conversations halting mid-word. Lockers clatter closed a little too loudly. Sneakers squeak to a stop on linoleum.

You keep your chin up, your eyes locked ahead.

Eddie's stride is sharp, almost cocky. But you know better. His free hand clenches into a fist and releases again at his side, his jaw stays tight, his eyes flicking across the crowd like a predator waiting for an excuse. "I swear to God", he mutters under his breath, "if one more of these fucking assholes opens their mouth..."

"I know", you whisper, barely moving your lips. You're not sure if it's better or worse that nobody actually says anything. They just look. Everyone knows. Everyone thinks they know. Billy's story leaked like gasoline on a flame. Everyone drank it down.

Everyone's picked a side, and not many chose yours.

You pass a group of senior girls leaning against the lockers, pretending to check their makeup. One of them huffs a laugh, shakes her head, whispers something that makes the others snicker.

Eddie stops dead in his tracks.

You do too, your heart stuttering in your chest.

The girl - Paige? What was her name again? - meets his eyes, all smug and vicious.

"What the fuck did you just say?", Eddie asks, loud enough that the hallway freezes.

Paige rolls her eyes. "Just saying, if someone like Billy really wanted you, it doesn't exactly scream unwilling, does it?"

The world goes silent. You feel the air shift, crackling with tension. Your heart thunders in your ears.

Eddie steps forward once. Just once. But it's enough.

The girls flinch. Paige swallows.

You put a hand on Eddie's chest. "Eds. Not here", you whisper. "Not now. Please."

He's vibrating under your touch. But he listens. Barely.

The girls scurry off, whispering louder now, but not nearly as brave.

Eddie's breathing hard, like he just ran a mile. He leans in close, his voice low and shaking. "I'm gonna kill someone today. I'm not even joking. I will get expelled."

You manage a small, humorless smile. "Not before lunch, okay?"

He groans and tips his head back. "Jesus Christ, I hate this place."

You nod. "Same.''

Together, you push forward. Past the whispers. Past the stares. Through the battlefield of your own high school.

The first two periods are tolerable. But only because Eddie's there.

He slouches back in his seat like a shield, legs stretched out obnoxiously far under the desk, one hand fiddling with a pen and the other never straying too far from yours. He keeps brushing his fingers over your knee, or tapping your shoe with his. A reminder. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

The teacher does a double take when she sees you both. Her mouth opens, ready to scold you, maybe ask where you've been, but then she closes it again. Her eyes flick over you, linger just a second too long. Something in her expression shifts. She knows. Or she thinks she knows. She says nothing. Just nods and turns to the blackboard.

Eddie leans in. "Didn't even get a 'welcome back, Munson.' Rude."

You almost smile. But it doesn't last.

By the time the bell rings and you've survived the first double period, your chest already feels tight.

Eddie's off to shop class, and you're alone now.

Switching classrooms is like stepping off a cliff.

And the moment you walk into the room, every conversation inside just stops.

Billy's riends are here. Jason. Andy. Tommy. A few others you've never really talked to but always knew were part of his crew. They're not even pretending not to stare.

Jason's eyes follow you the entire way to your desk. His jaw ticks. He doesn't blink.

You sit down. Try not to fumble. Open your notebook, keep your head low. Try to ignore the burn on the back of your neck from all the stares. The whispering. The way the girl beside you shifts her chair just a little farther away.

The teacher drones on in Spanish, but you barely hear it. You keep your pen moving just to look busy. But your stomach is twisting. Tightening. You can feel Jason's stare, drilling into your back like a bullet. Cold and violent.

You last exactly thirty-four minutes.

Then your hand shoots up.

"Can I use the bathroom?" you ask, your voice a little too tight.

The teacher glances up. "En Español, Samantha?"

You blink. "Uh. B-baño, por favor?"

Your teacher sighs. That was not the advanced grammar he was hoping for. Still, he nods. "Cinco minutos... rápido, por favor."

Five minutes.

You're up and out of your seat in seconds, grabbing the hall pass and your bag like you might never come back.

The hallway is mercifully empty, the silence ringing in your ears like static. You don't even make it to the bathroom before your steps slow. You lean against the wall just beside the girls' restroom. Breathe shakily. Trying to fight back the burn in your eyes. Trying to ignore the heaviness in your chest. The fear. The shame. The rage. The fucking unfairness of it all. That you're the one being stared at. Judged. Whispered about.

That he did this to you. And you're the one paying for it.

Tears burn in your eyes, but you won't let them fall. Not now. Not here.

You stand there for a long moment with your eyes closed, your head leaned back against the hallway wall. The fluorescent lights hum above you. Your fingers are clenched tight around the plastic pass.

You try to loosen them, try to unclench your jaw.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

You're not. But you will be. Eventually.

You finally push yourself off the wall and step into the bathroom, locking yourself into the furthest stall. You sit down on the closed lid, rest your elbows on your knees and let your head hang for a moment, your hair falling like a curtain, blocking out the world.

It's quiet in here.

Just you and your thoughts and the pounding of your heart.

For a second, you think about heading to Eddie's class, getting him out just to see him. Feel him. You know he'd ditch it within a second if you needed him to. If you wanted to go home right now.

But you don't.

You can't keep needing him every second, even if that's all you want right now. Even if it feels like he's the only thing keeping you together.

You take a breath. Then another. Wipe your face, even though there are no tears. Slowly, you stand back up square your shoulders, unlock the stall, and head to the sink. You stay gone as long as you can without getting written up. Splash your face with cold water. Stare at yourself in the mirror until your expression evens out, until the shaking stops. Not gone. But manageable.

Just long enough to fake it.

You take your time walking back to class. One step after the other, each one heavier than the last. When you finally push the classroom door open again, everything's exactly the same.

The hush. The stares. The judgment hanging in the air like smoke. Except...your desk isn't quite the same.

You notice it the second you lower yourself into the seat. A small, square piece of lined paper is folded neatly in half, placed just left of your notebook.

Your stomach twists. You glance around.

Jason isn't looking at you now. None of them are. Too casual. Too quiet. A few smirks. Your fingers twitch. You hesitate. Then slowly, you unfold the paper.

Hope the attention's worth it. You'll regret this. He doesn't belong in there. But you do.

Just a messy, rushed handwriting. Clearly written by a guy. No name. No initials.

But you don't need any.

You crumple it up instantly, shoving it deep into your bag before anyone sees your hands shake. Your face is hot again, you feel nauseous as you stare down at your desk, biting the inside of your cheek until it stings, just to keep yourself from crying, from panicking.

The room buzzes around you like a wasp nest. You don't hear a single word of your Spanish class, don't listen to anything your teacher is saying up front.

All you feel is your heart hammering in your chest, your hands getting clamp, your shoulders tensing further and further.

This is a nightmare.

After what Wayne told you, you expected some shit, yes. The fact that Billy's friends are on his side in this? Yeah, sure. But this? Everything that already happened since you left the trailer this morning? The stares, the whispers, this gnawing feeling of not one single soul, besides Eddie and your friends, believing you in this.

It's breaking you.

You're so lost in trying so hard not to lose your shit right here and now, you don't even see it land. Something slides forward from behind, barely a whisper of paper against wood.

Another note.

Your stomach drops so fast you almost feel dizzy.

This time, the fold is tighter. Harsher. Angrier. The edges are creased like whoever wrote it put too much force into every movement.

Your throat feels tight as your fingers move on their own, unfolding it with a sick kind of anticipation.

Lying cunt. Billy doesn't deserve this. You should've kept your legs shut.

There's a drawing underneath. Crude and violent and hateful. Your vision tunnels as you stare at it, your hand gripping the edge of the desk until your knuckles go white.

Sketched in heavy, angry pencil strokes, rushed and furious, the drawing is unmistakably of a girl on her knees. Messy hair. A crude smirk drawn on her face. A speech bubble.

Please, Billy, don't stop.

You blink. But the image doesn't blur away. It stays sharp. Carved into your mind like a hot brand.

The figure of Billy looms over the girl. Muscles cartoonishly large. A crown scribbled above his head like he's some kind of king. There's a leash. Wrapped around the girl's neck. Your neck. His hand holding the end. Your name is scrawled in jagged capital letters across the girls chest, just in case there was any doubt.

There are other details, crude ones, obscene ones, meant to humiliate, to reduce you. To make you nothing more than a filthy rumor brought to life with a few pencil lines and a sick imagination.

Laughter erupts somewhere behind you, low and smug and cruel, and you feel it like a slap.

Your throat tightens. Your hands shake so hard the paper trembles in them. You want to rip it. Scream. Run. Cry. Anything.

Instead, you just sit there, heart pounding so loud it drowns out everything else. Your skin crawls. You feel hot and cold at the same time. Sick. There's a ringing in your ears. Something inside you buckles. Something already cracked and bruised from the week that came before.

The buzzing of the lights above grows louder, warping into a roar in your ears. You blink once. Twice. The image burns itself into your brain, and suddenly it's not paper in your hand. It's memory. It's his voice in your ear. His breath on you. His hand on you.

Your hands shake. You can't breathe. Can't even blink the tears that well in your eyes. Your fingers twitch like they're going to tear the page to shreds, but you stop. Freeze.

No.

You can't react. Not here. That's what they want. Your jaw locks. Your heart pounds, erratic, like it might burst straight out of your chest. Your palms are still clammy. You still feel nauseous. Cornered. Filthy. Exposed. You fold the paper again, slower this time. Shove it into your bag, where the first one is already stashed. Careful. Controlled. Barely holding it together as you grab your notebook and pen to slide into your bag, too. You're dizzy with fury, with shame, with panic. Running on autopilot.

Then, you stand. Mechanically. Quietly.

The teacher looks up. "Samantha?"

You don't answer. You don't trust your voice. You barely trust your legs to keep moving. You walk to the door. Calm. Controlled. Ice cold. You don't stop. Not even when your name is called again behind you. You're already gone. Already holding yourself together by the thinnest thread imaginable.

You can't break here.

Not in front of them.

Not them.

You don't even realize you're running until your shoulder crashes into the door, pushing it open with a force that rattles the glass. Cold November air hits your face like a slap. It doesn't slow you. You keep moving, past the school steps, across the front walk, straight through the half-empty parking lot. Barely seeing. Barely breathing. Just your car. That's the only thing in your head. Your hand trembles as you dig for your keys in your bag, your lungs shuddering with ragged, quiet sobs you can't hold in anymore. You don't care who sees now. You just need--

Click.

You throw yourself inside, slam the door shut, lock it. All four. Just in case.

The moment the sound of the outside world is sealed out, when it's only you and the silence, you fall apart completely. Your hands fly to your face, curling into your hair as your body folds forward, sobs racking your chest with painful, choking violence. It's not crying. It's unraveling. Unmaking.

You can't breathe. You can't breathe.

The note. That drawing. Those words.

Please, Billy, don't stop.

It's in your head again. His voice, behind you, above you, inside you. The way he laughed when you tried to push him off. That moment in the motel. When he smirked like it was all a game. The fight.Eddie's fist slamming into Billy's jaw. Billy's head snapping back. Blood flying. Eddie protecting you with everything he has. Screaming when the cops yanked him off. Screaming your name as they pulled you both away like criminals.

His voice.

"Don't touch her! Don't you fucking touch her! Sam!"

The cold bite of the cuffs. The bruises on your wrists. Eddie's wide, terrified eyes as he reached for you even while restrained.

"Sam, baby, I'm here, I'm here--"

Gone.

They took him from you. Took you from him.

Neil's voice in the parking lot, low and venomous. You can still smell the alcohol on his breath. Feel the way his fingers dug into your arms. You thought he was going to kill you right there.

And now... now you're just sitting in your car, knees pulled to your chest, forehead against the steering wheel, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Every muscle in your body pulled so tight it aches.

You can't stop shaking. You can't believe you came back here. Can't believe you were so happy you finally got to come back home. To this fucking town. That this is supposed to be "normal" again. There's nothing normal left. Just fear. And pain. And guilt.

You don't know how long you've been sitting like that.

Time has melted into this hollow, empty space in your chest. Like your body is here, curled tight in the driver's seat, fists still clenched in your sleeves, but the rest of you is somewhere else. Floating. Lost. Caught in memories that keep flashing through your mind like cruel film reels.

Your breath is quieter now. You've gone... dry. No more tears left, just the raw ache they carved into your throat, into your chest. You're staring out through the windshield without seeing anything, your eyes stinging and red and vacant. Distant.

The bell rings. It startles you, but you barely move. The sound seems to echo for miles, bouncing off the walls in your head as students flood out of the building behind you. You hear them laughing, yelling, shouting over one another. A normal school day. Like it's any other Thursday.

But it's not.

You know Eddie's probably heading for your classroom now, like he said he would. He's probably already there. Finding the desk empty. Looking down the hallways. Pacing. Panicking. You should go to him.You want to go to him. But your legs won't move. Your hands won't work. You're still wrapped around yourself like a child, your shoulders hunched and face blotchy. You're too scared. Too drained. Like if you stand up, the whole world might just collapse.

So you stay. Still. Silent. Invisible behind the fogged-up windows. Hidden in plain sight.

Another group of kids walks past, laughing. Their voices rise, then fade.

You hold your breath. You want Eddie. God, you want him so bad. To crawl into his arms and let him wrap around you and whisper that it's okay, that you're safe now, that he's got you. You want him to hold you so tightly none of this can touch you ever again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three sharp raps against the glass.

You flinch.

The sound slices straight through the numb fog in your chest, yanking you back into the present. You blink, turning toward the window.

And there he is. Eddie. Coffee cup in one hand, his breath fogging the window as he ducks to your level.

You can't move. You just stare.

He's talking, but the sound barely cuts through. "You left? Seriously? I got there like two minutes late, baby, why didn't you just wait?"

But then he sees your face.

His anger disappears like it was never there. His brows furrow. He tries the handle. It's locked. Panic rises in his eyes.

"Unlock the door. Come on."

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the lock, barely getting it open before he's yanking it back, the door swinging wide. He kneels down between the open door and you, crowding close, one hand already reaching for you, not quite touching. "What happened?", he asks, his eyes darting across your face, down your body like he's scanning for injuries. "Someone hurt you?"

You open your mouth. Nothing comes. You try. You try so hard. But the words won't come. All you can manage, is a heartbreaking sob while falling forward into his chest, burying your face in his shirt as he wraps around you instantly. The coffee in his hand drops to the asphalt with a dull splatter and roll. He doesn't even notice.

His scent hits you, his warmth surrounds you, and you finally feel safe again. The strength you'd held onto, that tight, trembling string keeping you upright, snaps again when Eddie's lips find your temple, brushing over your skin in a soothing kiss.

"It's okay. I'm right here", he murmurs, holding you tight, strong arms wrapped around you, his leather jacket tighly stretched over his back.

Your eyes close, you sob quietly, but there's no more tears. You cried them all.

Eddie carefully leans back just enough to see your face. He looks broken. "Someone said something to you? About those fuckers?"

You nod.

"Who?"

You sniff hard, lip trembling lightly. You just nod your head to your bag on the passenger seat.

He follows your gaze, lets go of you to lean over and grab it. He stands back up, rummaging through it with shaky hands, pushing notebooks and pens aside until he finds the notes. He unfolds the first one. You watch his dark eyes move as he reads the few words. The color drains from his face. He reads it again, then opens the second one. Reads. Stares at the drawing. Takes it all in. Every single obscene detail.

His mouth presses into a tight, hard line. His hand is shaking as he holds the paper.

"Who did this", he growls, not asking. Demanding. "Who the fuck did this? Who gave you this?"

You flinch lightly at his tone.

He softens instantly as he looks down at you, so torn between fury and fear, helplessness and protectiveness. He's trying not to explode. Trying so hard not to make this worse for you. You see it all over his face.

You swallow. Then, quietly, so quietly you're not even sure it counts as a whisper, you say a name. "...Jason."

His jaw flexes. His fingers tighten around the paper, the edges crumpling, his other hand gripping your knee as he leans down again. "Jason Carver?"

You nod. "Yeah."

Eddie goes still. Completely, dangerously still. Like the silence that comes right before the storm. He doesn't speak. Doesn't blink. Doesn't even breathe for a second. His eyes flick down to the drawing again, his hand crumples it into a fist so tight the paper cracks. His jaw grinds so hard it looks painful, the vein in his neck pulsing like a warning.

He straightens and looks across the lot, scanning the people. No Jason. He must be inside.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

"What are you--?"

But he's already turning, the notes still in his hand.

You stumble out of the car after him, weak-legged and dizzy with dread. The cold bites at your skin, but you barely feel it. All you see is Eddie, already halfway across the lot, stomping up the front steps of Hawkins High like a storm with a soul, leather jacket flapping, fists clenched, those crumpled notes digging into his palm like knives. You hurry behind him, your voice catching in your throat.

"Eddie! Eddie, please!'

But he doesn't turn.

Inside, the halls are still busy with lunch crowds shifting, voices rising and falling. But everything seems to go quiet around you. Or maybe it's just the ringing in your ears.

The cafeteria doors swing open like thunder when Eddie storms in. You see it happen in slow motion, hurrying after him. The second he steps inside, the air changes. Heads turn. Conversations drop. Everyone watches him.

Eddie walks straight through the cafeteria, his eyes locked on one table. The basketball team. Jason and his friends. The cheerleaders. Hawkins High's high society.

Jason’s laughing with his friends, until one of them notices Eddie coming. Nudges him. Jason turns, and that smug smile fades just a little when your boyfriend stops right at his table. "What the hell’s your-", Jason starts, but Eddie doesn't even let him finish, shoves his tray off the table with a sharp, violent sweep of his arm, causing milk and mashed potatoes to fly in every direction, silverware to clatter to the floor and half the cafeteria to flinch.

The crumpled notes land next, slapped down so hard they unfold slightly on impact, the crude drawing visible for all to see. Gasps ripple through the room.

"What the fuck is this, huh?", Eddie roars.

Jason just blinks, playing innocent for a beat too long. Then the smirk creeps in. "Oh, come on", he drawls, "Don’t get your panties in a twist, freak. It's just a joke under students.''

Your stomach drops. You’re still in the doorway, barely inside the cafeteria. Frozen. Your hands clench into fists at your sides as you watch.

"You think this is fucking funny?", Eddie growls, and his voice is loud enough to make the whole cafeteria go dead silent. He slams both fists down on the table so hard it makes half the room jump. "You think you can fuck with her and get away with it, Carver? What the fuck is that?"

"Not my problem your girl doesn't understand a fucking joke, Munson", Jason states as crosses his arms behind his head like he owns the place, slow and lazy and smug, like he knows he’s untouchable.

"Oh, a joke, yeah? A fucking joke?", Eddie yells, grabbing the notes from the table, and reading them out loud for everyone to hear. "'Hope the attention’s worth it. You’ll regret this. He doesn’t belong in there. You do.'"

Silence. You can hear a pin drop. Even the kids who were laughing a moment ago are frozen now, eyes wide.

Eddie’s voice cracks. "She’s been through hell. And you threaten her?! Mock her? For what? For speaking the truth?"

You feel yourself starting to shake again. Your fingers grip the straps of your bag so tightly they hurt. Tears burn behind your eyes. You don’t want to cry here, but the rage and the shame and the violence of memory all surge up at once.

Every single student inside that cafeteria holds their breath now. People who've been chuckling at the drama first are now speechless. Staring bluntly, whispering.

"Oh, or this one! That's even better, even funnier, right? What a great fucking joke, let's all laugh about this one!", Eddie barks, snatching the second note back from the table to read it out loud, too. "'Lying cunt. Billy doesn’t deserve this. You should’ve kept your legs shut'. Ha! That's hilarious, isn't it?" He fake-laughs a cold, broken sound and holds up the page with the drawing for everyone to see. "And this? This your little masterpiece? You and your scumbag friends think this is some kind of art project?!"

A few students snort. A couple girls gasp and turn away, faces red. But mostly? Dead silence. People glance at you. At him. At Jason. At the note.

A slow, sickening awareness is dawning across the room.

"I didn’t draw that", Jason replies, his smugness now slowly faltering.

"Oh, of course you didn’t", Eddie snaps, tossing the paper back onto the table. "No one ever does when they’re cornered. But you sure as hell laughed when it landed on her desk, didn’t you? You sure as hell watched her run out crying. You and your boys laughed your fucking asses off, didn’t you?"

Jason opens his mouth like he might deny it, but Eddie leans in, his voice now low and vibrating with barely contained fury.

"You wanna call her a liar to my face again? Huh? You wanna tell me how funny it is that she can’t sleep anymore? That she wakes up screaming because of what your buddy did to her, tried to do to her? Or what his fucking father did afterwards? That she’s too scared to walk down a goddamn hallway without looking over her shoulder? You think this is a joke? She can't breathe because of shit like this! I had to watch her have fucking panic attacks and trauma flashbacks, and you stand there, knowing shit about what really happened, and fucking throwing these notes at her? You wanna tell me it was funny when she ran out sobbing? When she locked herself in her car? When she broke down alone because she didn’t wanna make a scene?"

No one dares to move. Teachers have gathered now at the doors, stunned into stillness, watching. 

Jason blinks. Swallows. The smirk is gone. The swagger is cracking.

Eddie doesn't give him room to answer. "You think this is over some schoolyard grudge? Over some ‘reputation’?", he barks, "Billy Hargrove is in jail, and his fucking father's gonna rot right next to him. And if you or your little crew think you’re next in line to fuck with her...", he steps forward, looming, lips curled, "...then I’ll make sure you never feel safe walking through these halls again, Carver.'' 

Jason straightens, chest puffed, but his eyes are twitchy. "She’s a liar", he says, like he’s been waiting to say it, "Just like Billy said. She got what she wanted and then played victim. That’s what she does, right? Isn’t that what sluts do?"

You freeze.

The cafeteria gasps.

And Eddie loses it.

He grabs Jason by the front of his stupid letterman jacket and drags him up until he's an inch from his face.

"You talk about her like that again, I will break your fucking jaw", he seethes. "You fucking wish you had even a fraction of the fucking strength she has. You’re not even worth the dirt on her shoes."

Jason tries to push him off. Tries to laugh like it doesn’t affect him. But it does. Everyone can see it.

Eddie finally shoves him back and steps away, his breath heavy and hands shaking as he shoves the notes into his jeans. He doesn’t even bother with another word, just turns, eyes scanning the crowd until they land on you.

You're standing at the edge of the cafeteria. Pale. Staring. Shaking.

Alone.

His entire body is vibrating with adrenaline, but he sees you. And somehow, that grounds him. Keeps his fists at his sides. He steps back, away from Jason, away from the table, and for a second, you're so glad.

He didn’t fight. He didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But Jason can’t leave it alone. He sees how people are looking now, how the teachers are not stepping in. How some students are whispering and shaking their heads at him.

His ego cracks wide open.

He sneers and calls after Eddie, loud and bitter and desperate to wound. "Everyone’s thinking it, Munson. Billy’s not guilty. Your girl’s just spinning a pretty little story ‘cause she’s too ashamed to admit she was begging for it!"

The words slice through the air like knives.

Eddie tenses. His steps slow down, his shoulders snap rigid. Ringed hands ball into fists at his sides.

The room gasps.

You start moving.

"Seriously, look at her", Jason calls, motioning toward you with a mocking sweep of his hand. "Acting like she’s some poor little victim now. When she’s the one who-"

"You better shut your fucking mouth", Eddie growls, turning back, slow and terrifying.

Jason throws his arms out. "What? You gonna hit me, freak? Go ahead. Throw another punch. Let’s see how fast they kick your psycho ass out for good. That’s what, three strikes now?"

Eddie doesn’t move. Not yet. But every muscle in his body is coiled, screaming.

You reach him, lay your hand on his back. "Don’t. Let's just go. You did enough.''

Jason sees it. Sees your touch. Sees Eddie hesitate. He doubles down, eyes burning with malice. "You know what’s pathetic?", he jeers, "That she has you fighting her battles. You and your whole sad Hellfire cult. Like you can protect her from the truth."

Eddie twitches, but stays still.

Then Jason aims directly at you. "She’s nothing but a lying whore."

Your blood freezes. The room gasps again.

A teacher finally calls out a warning. "Jason Carver!"

But he ignores it.

"Fuck off", you hiss, glaring at Jason, who's staring right back at you. Then he's stepping forward.

Eddie immediately shifts, steps in front of you like a shield. Protectiveness is radiating off of him. "Don't", he growls, barely containing his anger, your hand still on his back, fingers grabbing his jacket to keep him back.

"What, Munson, huh? You’re just a fucking freak. A wannabe rockstar with daddy issues and a fake tough guy act."

Eddie’s eyes darken.

Jason leans in.

"No wonder she cheated."

And then, smiling, knowing he’s crossed the line, Jason hisses the last words like poison.

"Maybe if you weren’t such a pathetic lay… she wouldn’t have come crawling to Billy like a needy little slut. And now she’s screaming attempted rape because she doesn’t want anyone to know the truth, isn’t that right, Sam?"

Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. Everything inside you screams. The cafeteria is silent. Shocked. Horrified. Watching. Waiting. You stare at Jason, heart pounding in your ears. You can’t believe he said that.

Out loud. In front of everyone.

And no one even tries to stop him. Not even your fucking teachers.

Something white-hot burns through the fog in your head, through the shame and fear and trembling, and suddenly, you’re not frozen anymore.

You take a step forward, teeth bared, voice shaking but sharp as a blade. "Say that again, you sick piece of shit. Say it again and I swear to God...."

Jason just laughs, cruel and hollow, but you’re not done. Not anymore.

You shove past Eddie before he can stop you, eyes locked on Jason like you could set him on fire with just your stare. "You don’t know what happened", you hiss, every word loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear, "but that’s never stopped you from running your mouth, has it? That’s all you are. Noise. Hate. Pathetic little rumors dressed up as fact to make you feel important. But you're not important. You're nothing. Just another coward with too much testosterone and not enough brain cells."

Someone snorts behind you.

Jason’s eyes narrow. "Oh, here we go. Gonna cry now? Gonna scream ‘believe women’ and hope no one asks questions?"

"I hope they ask fucking questions", you cut in. "Ask all the fucking questions. Ask Chief Hopper. Ask the police. Ask my friends who fucking recorded Billy threatening me. Ask the kind fucking couple who helped me in the parking lot after Billy's father came after me for reporting his son to the police. But don’t you ever suggest I asked for it. For any of it. For threats and blackmail and harassment and fucking rape threats, you fuckface! Don't ever fucking say I wanted it. Or fucking wanted him touching me when I said no. Don’t you ever put those words in my mouth again, Jason Carver. Don't you ever fucking dare again."

Jason scoffs, throws an amused look at his friends still sitting at the table, but they all just stare. No laughs, no shaking heads, no rolled eyes. Nothing. Just silence.

Eddie grabs your arm, not to stop you, but to hold you. His grip is firm, but gentle, trying to protect you from doing something you'll regret.

But you don’t care. You step closer to Jason, glaring at him.

"I hope, God, I hope, that someday, someone does to you what Billy tried to do to me. I hope they hurt you. Scare you. Break you down so completely you don’t know where the pain ends and you fucking begin. And I hope nobody fucking believes you, too."

The cafeteria is silent. You can hear your own ragged breathing.

"I hope that when you’re alone", you go on, voice cutting like a blade, tears stinging in your eyes, "crying at home with the lights on because the darkness scares you… when you’re lying awake at night afraid to close your fucking eyes because the nightmares feel too real… you think of me."

Jason blinks. The smirk fades.

"Me, the girl who didn’t crawl into a corner and stayed quiet. The girl who didn’t just let them blackmail her, harass her, insult her, grope her, almost rape her and fucking destroy her, and walk away laughing." 

You scoff, shaking your head while throwing a look at his friends at the table, who all sat in the same class as you and Jason did earlier. The one's who snickered when he wrote the notes. Sketched the drawing. They all avoid your gaze.

"I’ve got evidence, Jason", you continue, focusing back on the blonde basketballer in front of you. "Proof. I’ve got police reports. I’ve got witnesses. I’ve got a fucking trial coming up, and you know what? I’m going to win. Not just for me, but for every girl and woman who's been in the same place and never got the chance to fight back, who didn’t get justice."

You stare him down, still fighting your own tears, voice cracking but you keep going.

"The fact that you still can’t believe me? That doesn’t make me a liar. That makes you a fucking blind coward.''

Jason laughs. Loud. Forced. The sound cuts through the silence like broken glass."Jesus Christ", he mutters, shaking his head, eyes narrowing like he’s seeing right through you. "You’ve really gone off the deep end, huh? Playing the martyr card now? How long you been rehearsing that little speech in front of a mirror?"

You don’t flinch.

"Seriously", he sneers, louder now, trying to pull the attention back his way. "This whole ‘brave survivor’ act? It’s pathetic. You want us to feel bad for you? You should feel lucky anyone ever gave you attention to begin with."

A few of his friends murmur behind him, uncertain, but not backing away. One of them snorts, another says something like "She’s always been crazy, man", but it’s weak. Hollow.

Jason steps forward again, but Eddie moves first. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, your back against him now. His breath is hot against your neck, ragged and shallow. You can feel the fury rippling off him in waves.

"Oh, I get it now", Jason drawls, eyes flicking between you and Eddie with a mean smirk. "You’re the broken girl with a savior complex and he’s the angry burnout with something to prove. What a fucking match made in therapy."

Eddie takes a step forward and Jason’s friends move, standing up from their seats, suddenly shoulder to shoulder behind him. They tower. Intimidating. Posturing.

Eddie just stares, eyes dark and deadly. "Back the fuck up", he growls, voice low, lethal, "I mean it. You’re done, Carver."

Jason doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Just stands there smirking, basking in the chaos like it fuels him.

"Back the fuck up", Eddie growls again, his voice a razor's edge.

Jason chuckles darkly. "Or what? You’ll hit me like you hit Billy? Go on. Make it four for four, Munson. They’ll drag your ass out in cuffs this time."

"ENOUGH!"

A teacher’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and strained. You can see a few now pushing through the crowd. Jason still doesn’t stop. He never stops.

"Tell me something, Munson", he sneers, "What’s it like knowing every guy in this school’s talked about what your girlfriend’s probably like in bed, mh?"

A ripple of laughter from his friends. One of Jason’s buddies murmurs, "She likes it rough", just loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough the teachers don't catch it.

You flinch.

Eddie snaps. "What did you just say?"

Jason doesn’t even blink. He just grins, eyes locked on Eddie like he’s already won. "Oh, come on, man, don’t act like you’ve never wondered if she screamed louder for Billy. Bet she did. And look at you now. Trying so fucking hard to be her hero when the truth is… she only picked you because she knew no one else would. You’re not her savior, Munson. You’re just the only one desperate enough to stay. A charity case with a dead mom and a daddy in prison. And the whole town knows it."

The second the words leave Jason's smugly smirking lips, Eddie's whole presence behind you coils up. He can't control himself any longer.

Jason overstepped a line.

Eddie's big hand leaves your front, his arm snakes away from you, his warmth leaving your back as he steps to the side, dark eyes glaring at Jason as he takes a deep, shaky breath. "You motherfucker", he hisses dangerously, people around Jason taking a step back as Eddie stares him down like fucking prey.

And then, he lunges.

You gasp, "Eddie!", and try to grab him, but he's already moving, fists clenched, ready to end this.

All of a sudden, his bandmates burst through the edge of the crowd, grabbing his arms just in time, pulling him back, not to hurt him, but to save him. Eddie thrashes against them, fists clenched, eyes blazing, veins bulging in his neck as he roars, "Let me go! LET ME FUCKING GO!"

"Eddie, man, don’t!"

Eddie growls something guttural, still struggling in his friends’ grip. His boots scrape the tile as he tries to break free. He’s wild.

The cafeteria is chaos now, teachers shouting, pushing through the students, a few of Jason’s friends moving to stand between them, puffed up like linebackers on a power trip. One teacher blows a whistle, shrill, piercing. Another yells, "Jason Carver! Enough! Get back!"

The football coach finally arrives, barking orders. "Boys! Sit the hell down! Back off! You two, out - now!"

Gareth, Jeff and Grant pull Eddie further back with everything they’ve got, grabbing his arms, dragging him down and away like a pack of desperate anchors. He fights them, teeth gritted, shoulders straining, chest heaving with rage as he thrashes to break free. One of Jason’s guys tries to look smug, but flinches when Eddie’s eyes lock on him, pure murder flashing in the dark.

Jason doesn't move. Not yet. He looks back at you, eyes flicking down with scorn. Then he strikes the final match.

"Look at your little freak boyfriend. He’s fucking unhinged. You should be thanking me for bringing it to light. Hero shit, really." He smiles at you now. "No wonder you stuck around, huh? You like them broken. Just like you."

Your stomach churns.

The crowd ripples, louder now, people yelling over each other. But Jason’s voice cuts through again, cruel and grinning.

"Guess he’s not so different from dear old dad after all, mh? Fists first, brain last. You sure you wanna tie yourself to another loser headed for a cell?"

Eddie stiffens in his friends' grip. He goes quiet. Still. Stops fighting. Just stares, wide eyes finding yours. Pained. Broken.

And it kills you.

You don’t remember deciding to move. You don’t remember pulling your arm back. But you remember the sound. A crack that cuts through the noise like lightning splitting a tree. Jason’s head whips to the side, a stunned grunt escaping him as your knuckles connect with his jaw. It’s not a slap. Not a cry for attention. It’s a punch. A real one. The kind that splits skin. That makes people stagger.

Jason stumbles back, hand flying to his face, eyes wide in disbelief.

The cafeteria erupts, gasps, screams, someone yells your name.

You don’t flinch. You don’t even move. You just stare him down.

Eddie is staring at you. At what you just did. Then, a slow, stunned breath leaves his lungs, like your fist knocked the rage right out of him.

Chaos erupts. Teachers yelling.

Jason lunging forward and being caught by his coach, who drags him away. Another teacher shouting at students to get back. Jeff and Gareth still holding Eddie like a wild animal, just in case. Jason’s friends barking, stepping up again, someone insulting you again, but you barely register anything.

You’re just standing there, fist still clenched, body shaking, heart in your throat. Your hand is still shaking. But it’s done.

The last line crossed. The moment no one will forget.

"Let me go", Eddie pants, breathless, and his friends finally release their grip. Jeff and Gareth step back as he stumbles forward, eyes locked on you. "Baby", he gasps, hands coming up to frame your face, "You okay?"

You blink at him, disoriented, like the world’s still catching up to what just happened. Your knuckles are already swelling. Your fingers ache. It hurts.

He takes your hand gently, eyes scanning every inch of it. "Shit... you break something?" His thumb brushes over your skin. Then his gaze snaps to yours. "You punched him", he breathes, "You fucking punched Jason Carver in the face, Sam. What the fuck? That's my job.''A shocked, ragged laugh leaves him, like he’s barely holding himself together. "Jesus Christ."

"He went too far", you whisper. "What he said about you, that was... too much."

Eddie follows your line of sight, jaw clenching as he watches Jason being dragged off, his lip split open, a dark smear trailing down his chin. His coach hauls him by the arm, barking something in his ear.

Jason’s friends are still standing nearby, eyes locked on you with venom, but they don’t move. Not with Eddie right next to you. With Jeff, Grant and Gareth close. They just glare, hiss under their breath.

Jason's voice echoes through the cafeteria as he still fights his coach's grip. "She’s fucking crazy! You all saw that! That bitch hit me!"

Eddie turns back to you. His hands come back to your face. "You punched him because of me?"

You nod.

"Miss Carter!"

The sharp voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

Your English teacher storms toward you. His bands clamp around your arm, then yank.you back with a strength that surprises you.

"Have you lost your mind? Principals office. Now!"

You barely register her as he drags you across the cafeteria, past stunned faces, half-eaten lunches, and the chaos you just left in your wake.

Everything’s moving too fast and not fast enough.

Your hand is throbbing, stinging where your knuckles split open against Jason’s jaw. Blood - his, yours, you don't know - is smeared across your skin. You’re shaking. Shaking so hard your legs almost give out. Adrenaline is buzzing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the hallway, your teacher right behind you.

Eddie’s voice chases you. "Hey-- HEY! What are you doing?!", he shouts, footsteps close behind. "She was fighting back! You saw what he did, what he said!" He holds up the crumpled notes, waving them like evidence. "He deserved it! Look what he fucking wrote her!"

"Munson, stop!" the teacher barks over his shoulder, guiding you towards the administration wing.

"She shouldn’t be punished for this! She’s a victim! LET HER GO!"

But your teacher doesn't stop. Students have gathered down the hall.

Everyone’s watching.

You catch glimpses of wide eyes and open mouths. Some kids look thrilled. Others terrified. You feel none of it. Just the adrenaline crashing through your veins like a storm.

"Principal Higgins will deal with you personally", your teacher hisses, practically shoving you down the hall now. ''That was assault. In front of half the school! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn’t", you mumble, staring at your trembling hand.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice behind you. "HEY! STOP! STOP TAKING HER AWAY, FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

You twist around, see him pushing through the crowd, the two folded notes still clenched in his hand, waving them in the air like a flare.

"Look at what he wrote her! You wanna talk about assault? Look at this shit!"

"Munson!" your teacher snarls, not even slowing down, "Stay back!"

"He deserved it!" Eddie shouts. "You didn’t hear what he said, he was threatening her, and no one was doing anything, and now you’re dragging her off?!"

"Back off, Edward", the teacher warns, spinning to glare at him. "You’re already on probation. One more incident and you’re out of here. Do you want to throw your future away for this?"

You’re almost at the admin wing when Higgins’ door flies open.

Principal Higgins steps into the hall, arms crossed, face thunderous. He takes one look at Eddie storming up behind you and doesn’t even blink.

"Munson. Step away. Now."

Eddie’s jaw flexes. "No."

"You want to graduate this year?" Higgins says sharply. "One more strike, Munson. One. You’re out of chances. Stay back."

"I’m not leaving her alone.''

Your principal raises a brow. "She’s not your concern right now. Go to your class.''

"The hell she isn’t my fucking concern", Eddie barks back, ignoring the order.

"Edward Munson.'' Your teacher chimes in again, his tight voice a warning as all of you look at him. "Don’t do this. Go to class, now."

You’re still frozen in place, turned halfway, breathing hard, heart slamming. You look at him.

"I’m coming with her", Eddie repeats. "She’s not walking in there alone.''

Higgins stares at him for a long moment. Then at you. Then finally, slowly, he turns back to his door.

"Yes, she is", he finally says. "Miss Carter, in. Mr Munson, stop whatever it is you're doing. Sit down and wait. Quietly.''He nods at you, voice sharp. "Get in. Now."

You cast one last look at Eddie, at the way he’s watching you like he’s about to explode or fall apart, and then you’re pulled through the door.

It closes behind you with a heavy, echoing click.

Inside Higgins’ office, the walls feel closer than they should. The blinds are drawn, casting striped shadows across the carpet. The air is heavy with tension and the faint scent of stale coffee.

Principal Higgins just sits at his desk, gesturing at you to take a seat opposite of him.

You sit, hands folded in your lap, fingers nervously picking at your black nail polish as you look at him.

Higgins opens a register, flicks through some files and pulls out a thin one. Probably yours. Before he even has the chance to talk, there’s a knock at the door.

"Yes?"

The door opens.

You turn in your seat, glance behind you. It's your teacher, still flushed from the chaos, who now steps in and drops two crumpled notes onto Higgins’ desk like evidence at a crime scene. "Munson insisted you should see this, Sir", the teacher says tightly. "He wouldn't let it go."

Your eyes dart back to the opened door as Higgins and the teacher talk quietly.

Eddie's right outside, now sitting in a chair, elbows on his widely spread knees. Eyes on you.

You just look at him, mouth an I'm okay when seeing the worries in his eyes before your teacher leaves the office again and closes the door behind him.

You turn back to your principal, who's picked up the notes, unfolding them with deliberate care. His eyes scan the page. First the words, then the drawing. His mouth tightens. The sigh he lets out is long and exasperated, not sympathetic. He sets the papers down slowly, then looks up at you.

A second longer, your eyes are glued to the notes in front of you, to the horrible and obscene drawing of Billy and you. You swallow hard, a lump forming in your throat as you eventually force yourself to look up and meet his eyes.

There’s a flicker of something in them. Pity? Doubt? Maybe even guilt, but it vanishes fast, replaced by professional coldness.

"Miss Carter", Higgins eventually sighs, adjusting his glasses as he leans back in his chair. "I understand you're having a stressful time right now. According to Chief Hopper and the department, there’s a case involving you and Billy Hargrove. There’s... evidence. And if it goes to trial, then that’s what the courts will decide." He slowly nods. "So yes, Miss Carter, I understand you're emotionally... tense, at the moment", he goes on, but the way he looks at you tells you enough to know that this man doesn't believe the allegations against Billy at all.

You can see it. Principal Higgins doesn't believe you. Though he's smart enough to not say it out loud. Your fingers nervously touch your hurt knuckles, the pain making you wince lightly but keep your focus.

Emotionally tense. What a great word for fucking traumatized.

"Nevertheless", he continues, "I can’t tolerate what happened today. There are consequences for violence, even in emotionally charged situations." He adjusts his tie, then ticks them off with methodical cruelty. "Three days of out-of-school suspension. No participation in extracurriculars for the rest of the semester. Detention every Friday until winter break. You’ll be writing an apology to Jason Carver, and your transcript will note this as a disciplinary incident."

"But he--"

"I read what he wrote. I saw the drawing", Higgins interrupts, tone flat. "But you punched him. In front of half the school. That’s not how we handle things at Hawkins High."

No mention of Jason’s part in it. No questions about what happened at the cafeteria. Just a shrugging of authority that favors the quarterback over the broken girl with a history.

"And your boyfriend", Higgins adds coolly, "is skating on thin ice. He lays one more hand on someone in this school, and he’s out. Expelled. No second chances. Not after what happened with Hargrove." His voice lowers, eyes narrowing. "I don’t care who touched who. This is a school, not a boxing ring. And you’re both running out of time."

You sit back, blinking against the burn of frustration and betrayal.

He doesn’t get it. Or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care. To him, you’re the rebellious girl with a violent streak, and Eddie is the ticking bomb he wishes would just go off already.

There’s no justice in this room. Just order. And you’ve already broken it.

"What about him?" you ask, your voice filled with fury. "What’s Jason facing, huh? He threatened me with these notes. There! He insults me, he calls me a liar... And this drawing? It's vulgar and obscene and so inappropriate, it makes me feel unsafe. This isn't just a little joke, this is serious."

Higgins looks at you like a parent indulging a tantrum. "Miss Carter...."

"No!" You cut him off. "First, this. During class. Then, he humiliated me. Publicly." Your voice breaks, and you swallow hard, blinking fast. "He said no one believed me.  Do you have any idea what that does to someone who's been through what I have been through? Do you have any idea? This is a nightmare! All I wanted was to finally come back to school, and this is what I have to face? That's unacceptable!"

"I’m not minimizing your feelings", Higgins replies coolly, "but that doesn’t excuse your actions."

"And what about his actions?" You gesture toward the notes he set aside. "You saw what he wrote. What he drew. That’s not just bullying, that’s harassment. But after listening to him calling me a liar, calling me very bad words, insulting me and my boyfriend...  I finally fought back and hit him, so now I’m the threat? Are you kidding me?"

Higgins exhales, long and slow. "Jason will be spoken to. His behavior will be addressed."

"Spoken to?", you echo. "You can't be serious right now."

"He’s a student in good standing. This is his first major offense, and he’s a minor. Yours is not. Neither is Mr. Munson’s."

There it is. The subtext turning into text.

You sit back, stunned. "So that’s it? Because he’s your star player, he gets a slap on the wrist, and I get three days out and a scarlet letter on my record?"

His silence is answer enough.

"I’m not sorry", you say, voice quieter now, but no less angry. "I’m not. I’d do it again. And I won't apologize for anything."

Higgins gives you a long look, his face unreadable. "I would suggest you do apologize", he says finally, "Because if you don't, Miss Carter…you won’t be coming back."

You push back the chair, the legs scraping hard against the floor, sharp and jarring. Higgins flinches just a little, and you’re glad he does. You rise slowly, your jaw clenched so tight it aches. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, something patronizing and flat and hollow. But you beat him to it. "Fine. I think we’re done here", you say, voice low and steady. Ice cold.

He blinks. "Excuse me?"

You’re already moving, hand on the door, fed with this bullshit. "Fuck off."

Your principal stiffens in his chair. "I beg your pardon?"

You don't answer, just yank the door open and step outside. Eddie immediately stands up from his chair, wild-eyed and worried, your name already on his lips. The coach, your English teacher, the secretary down the hall. Everyone looks at you.

Higgins stands up from his seat, following you through his office, breathing sharply. He's clearly offended, and you couldn't care less anymore.

You're just... so fucking done.

"Samantha Carter! I really hope I misunderstood you! You better come right back here and apologize right now!"

Eddie's eyes wide as he stares at you.

What have you done?

The coach and teacher share a confused look.

Higgins appears in the doorframe behind you, still awaiting your apology.

You turn around, glare back at him. "No", you hiss, "I won't fucking apologize. Not to you, and especially not to Jason Carver. This is fucking bullshit, and you know it. You're suspending me while he gets a slap on the wrist? That's fucking bullshit. I meant what I said. With every fiber of my heart. Fuck. Off."

Higgins stares at you. "Language, Miss Carter! I will call your father! There will be consequences for this behavior!"

"Sam", Eddie rasps behind you, feeling and seeing how your blood starts to boil.

You ignore him.

"Fine, fucking do it!", you yell back, losing the last bit of respect for your principal right here in this hallway. "I don’t care. I’m eighteen. He plays no fucking part in my life. He never did. Call him. Go ahead. Tell him I said fuck off too. You know what? Tell all of them. Every single one of you in this goddamn school, in this town - you can all fuck off."

Somewhere in the distance, a phone rings and no one answers it.

Higgins stares at you. The vein on his neck is pulsing with rage but he keeps it in.

Eddie moves before anyone else does. He grabs your wrist, not rough, not panicked, but urgent. "Come on. We’re leaving. Let's go."

You let him pull you down the hall, away from your speechless principal, your very pissed English teacher and the school's football coach who still has Jason's blood on his jacket.

Eddie's hand doesn't let go. He pulls you with him, past the nurse’s office where Jason sits and holds gauze to his lip, his face twisted in smug, bleeding satisfaction. His eyes find yours as you pass. He starts to smirk. You flip him off without a word.

The front doors slam behind you, the rush of cold air like a slap to the face, but it doesn’t even register. You’re already burning too hot. The adrenaline is still high in your veins, your breath coming in shallow bursts, your bloody hand pulsing with a sharp, stinging ache.

Eddie doesn’t say a word as he leads you across the lot. Just keeps his hand wrapped around yours like you might evaporate if he lets go. You can feel him looking at you, but he stays quiet while you stomp toward your car, feet crunching over gravel like gunshots.

You whirl around the second you hit the driver’s side. "Can you believe that shit? He’s seriously suspending me? Me? For punching that idiot after the shit he pulled? After everything he fucking said in there? And Jason? What, he gets what, ice and sympathy?" You press your good hand to your forehead. "Fuck this school. Fuck Higgins. God, I should’ve..."

Your fist clenches on instinct, and pain flares up your arm. You hiss, shaking it out, and Eddie’s there in a second, his hands cupping yours carefully.

"Hey, hey, easy", he murmurs, lifting your hand to inspect it. "Lemme see."

"It’s fine", you mutter, but your voice is tight. Your hand’s red, the skin is scraped raw across the knuckles and already swelling.

"It’s not fine", he says, but there’s no judgment in his voice, just worry. And something else. Something darker. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "You’ll bruise. But it’s not broken."

You look up at him, and stop short.

He’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful explosion he’s ever seen. Like he can’t believe you’re real. Like the sun just punched Jason Carver in the mouth and then told the school to go fuck itself.

"What?"

Eddie huffs, a crooked, amazed smile tugging at his mouth. "Remind me to never piss you off", he murmurs, voice low and rough as he lifts your hand and gently places a kiss to the back of it.

Despite everything, you laugh. Just once. A small, startled bark that sounds more like a cough, but it’s real. You can’t help it.

He keeps looking at you with that look, while your blood is still on his fingers and your fury is still crackling in the air, and then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not careful.

It’s desperate. Hungry. Wild.

His hands come up to cradle your face, your sore knuckles forgotten in the press of his mouth. He kisses you like he means it, like he saw everything unravel back there and doesn’t give a single shit. Like your anger is holy. Like your rage is the hottest thing in the goddamn world.

His fingers thread into your hair, his body flush against yours, pinning you against your car. It’s messy and breathless, all teeth and tongue and adrenaline. His hands roam like he can’t decide where to hold you first, touching your waist, your ribs, the hem of your jacket. "Fuck, baby", he groans into your mouth, voice wrecked with awe and heat. "You’re absolutely insane. You know that?"

You smile against his lips. "Takes one to love one."

He lets out a choked laugh, presses his forehead to yours for a split second, and then kisses you again. "We should’ve stayed home", he rasps. "Could’ve fucked you all day instead of dealing with this bullshit. Could’ve made you forget everything but me."

You nod, clutching the front of his jacket with your scraped knuckles, tugging him closer.

His hands slide around you, grip rougher now, grabbing your ass, squeezing, guiding you tighter against his hips. You can feel the hard bulge in his jeans. Your eyes flutter shut, you snort softly and kiss him right back. "Oh, my god, you can't be serious."

"What? I love you", he grins, "You’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Just... swinging at Jason like that? Fuck, I think I found a new kink."

You laugh breathlessly, then gasp again as he grinds against you, shameless and hard. "You’re mine, Sam. No one gets to talk to you like that. No one."

Your bloody fingers curl into his collar as he kisses down your jaw, to your throat. His teeth scrape lightly across your pulse point, making you gasp.

"You have no idea", he growls against your neck, "how fucking gone I am for you. You stand there all fire and fury, telling Higgins to fuck off like a queen, and I swear to God, I almost came in my jeans."

You laugh again as you bury your face against his shoulder, then lift your head again, eyes gleaming. "You’re a menace."

"And you’re a fucking goddess."

Your grinning lips collide again, Eddie groans and presses even closer, and you're hand is already wandering down his chest, when you're feeling eyes on you. You open your eyes and pull back just enough to glance up, across the parking lot and back to the school building.

Higgins. At the window of his office. Watching you two through the glass.

You meet his gaze like a dare, your lips parted and cheeks flushed, your body still pressed to Eddie’s. Slowly, you grin. Something dangerous and wild and unapologetic. You just grab Eddie's jaw And kiss him again.

You don’t care anymore. You’re so far past caring you’re in another atmosphere.

Eddie's breathing hard, his eyes are put h black as he groans again. "Fuck, I love you. I love you. I’ll burn this whole place down if I have to."

Your tongue slips into his mouth, you're moaning softly, pinned to your car, feeling his heat, his hunger. And what it does do you. You need him. All of him.

"Get in the car, Eds. Let's go."

Your voice is breathless, shaking with adrenaline and hunger.

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs your wrist, opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman possessed, and you both tumble in, he behind the wheel, you beside him, slamming the door shut as the engine roars to life. He peels out of the parking lot like he's got the devil on his heels, tires screeching as he races off, leaving the school behind, one hand on the wheel and the other gripping your thigh with intent.

You lean in close, kissing his neck, your voice dark and dangerous as you whisper, "Want you so bad, baby..."

He gulps, squeezes your thigh, eyes darting to your rearview mirror as he checks for any cars behind you, racing through town.

You smirk, kissing the side of his neck again, dragging your teeth across the skin.

Eddie breaks a stop sign. A red light. Doesn't even look. Just drives you out of town, and on the country road leading back to Forest Hills.

"I need you inside me."

His breath hitches, his foot presses down on the gas while your hand finds his lap, palming his cock through the denim.

His hips twitch toward you instinctively. "Fuck" he mutters. "We’re almost home. Just...hold on a little longer, baby. Promise I'll... fucking hell - ... take good care of you."

But you don’t want to wait.

You press your lips to his pulse, then bite just enough to make him groan low and deep. "Pull over", you whisper against his skin. "Or I swear I’ll take matters into my own hands, right here, right now."

Eddie swears under his breath, barely veering off the country road, the tires crunching over gravel, headlights swinging through open field until he pulls behind a tree, a broken fence post barely blocking you from view.

Your car jerks to a stop, the engine cutting off with a desperate sputter. And with one swift motion, he reaches down and slides his whole seat back, making more space for you in his lap between his body and the steering wheel.

You’re already kicking your shoes off, unbuttoning your jeans and hectically sliding them down your legs, panties clinging tight as you crawl over the console and straddle his lap in the driver's seat.

"Jesus Christ", he laughs as you peel off your jacket, hoodie and bra, leaving yourself bare to him besides your panties. You kiss him. Hard. No finesse, just raw need.

"I need you, Eds", you pant, grinding in his lap, his hands flying to your ass, squeezing it roughly as you move. Your skin burns in the cool air, but his hands are everywhere in you, his rough palms sliding up your ribs, cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until you’re gasping into his mouth.

He groans, then kisses you like he’s starved. Like he’s waited a lifetime. His tongue tangles with yours, teeth catching your lower lip, groaning when you grind down on the bulge beneath you. "You’re so fucking perfect", he breathes, "So hot. So fucking tough."

You grind down on him again, feeling the press of his erection, hard and pulsing through his jeans, and he bucks up into you with a sound that’s half-growl, half-moan. His lips find your neck, your chest, your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipple as your back arches in his hands, his mouth everywhere. His voice is low, hoarse, wrecked.

"Fuck, baby. You don’t even know what you do to me."

"I think I know exactly what I do to you."

"Yeah?", he grins. "Lemme show you anyway."

You grin right back and reach down to pop the button on his jeans and tug the zipper down. Eddie groans softly while letting you free his dick. You slide your panties to the side and sink down onto him in one, slow, breathtaking motion. He stretches you, full and hot and perfect, and the air leaves your lungs in a choked whimper.

"Oh fuck... yeah, baby", he pants, "You’re so tight, fuck, so fucking wet for me, fuck--''

You start to move, circling your hips first to get used to his size again and the sweet pain of him stretching you in the best way, before bracing your hands on his shoulders to ride him properly.

Eddie's hands fall back to your ass, helping you move, lifting you and slamming to right back down on his cock, matching your greedy rhythm.

Your mouths collide in another hungry kiss, you're moaning right into it.

He's so hard, so big and deep inside you. And his tip keeps hitting that one spot over and over again, making you even wetter by the second. You're so soaked you can hear it every time you take him back in.

"F-fuck, just like that", Eddie groans, his hands sliding up your back to fist in your hair.

"Fuck, oh fuck", you pant, slamming your hips down harder. You want to lose yourself in this, this man, this moment, this raw chaos of heat and noise and love. You kiss him harder, biting his lip as your thighs tremble next to his, your body moving faster and faster on top of him.

The windows start to fog, your panting mouths keep crashing against each other in hungry kisses, Eddie's hands leave prints on your thighs, ass and waist as he holds you, lifts you, slams you back down. You're fucking him so hard it feels like the whole car is shaking from the force of it.

"You're- so-- hot-", he pants, groaning again when you tilt your hips a little more to take him even deeper. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby--"

You're grinning through your moans, breathless and flushed, your tits bouncing with every thrust. Your skin is damp with sweat, your moans growing louder, needier when he makes you arch your back to catch your tit with his mouth, sucking your nipple into his mouth anf grazing it with his teeth.

"Oh fuck, Eds--"

His breath hits your skin, he's panting just as hard as you, his cock twitching inside you every time you moan his name. You're leaning back harder, arching into his mouth while you reach up for the handle above the door to keep your balance.

Eddie groans into your chest, one hand clamping back down on your ass, his rings digging into your flesh while the other one slips between your thighs.

Your head tips back, a choked "yes, oh god, yes--" leaving your throat when his thumb finds your clit, pressing on it just now he knows you need it.

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, then he releases it with a wet pop, only to move over to the other one, his mouth leaving wet tracks on your chest. His eyes flicker up to watch your face while he licks it, his mouth curling into a knowing grin when he notices your flushed throat, and how your eyes are already rolling back.

You're close.

After another teasing suck to your chest, he leans back in the drivers seat, his eyes wild with sex as he watches you riding him. Your nipples are pink and hard from his mouth, still shining with his saliva. Your body moves under his hand, your clit throbs under his thumb as he keeps rubbing it in tight circles.

"You're a fucking dream,'' he pants, "Look at you, fucking- perfect."

Your pussy tightens at his praise.

He geoans lowly, his eyes fluttering shut, but his mouth keeps spilling filth.

"That’s it-- ride me just like that--... Fuck, that pussy's killing me..."

You're shaking, gasping, moaning on top of him, your nails digging into his scalp where your hand is fisted into his hair. "Eds- oh my god, fuck!"

"That's it, baby-- such a good fucking girl- keep going..."

You're biting your lip, fucking yourself on his cock even faster, chasing your climax.

"You're fucking choking me--", he groans, his dick twitching harder inside you, "You gonna cum on my dick, baby? Yeah?"

Before you even manage a nod, it's crashing over you. Your nails dig into his skin as you cry out, as your hips stop and shake under his touch. Your pussy clenches so hard it almost pushes him right out.

Eddie curses breathlessly, laughing between groans while you gasp, tremble and shake from the sheer power of your orgasm.

Your slick is everywhere on his cock, his shoved down boxers, his thighs and lower belly. You're gasping for air, twitching around his length while falling forward and collapsing against him. "More," you gasp, "I need more, Eddie, fucking please--"

"Yeah?" he pants, pulling you closer to kiss you again, his curls tickling your skin as he devours your gasping mouth. "You need more of my dick?"

You nod, biting his bottom lip, your thighs feeling like jelly, but your pussy screaming for more. More heat. More skin. More him.

"My needy, insatiable girl," he growls, his fingers snapping your thong that's still shoved aside, "Couldn't even wait 'til we got home..."

You're already starting to ride him again, your thighs shaking, your walls still clenching around his throbbing cock.

"God, I fucking love you like this," he pants, "You wanna cum on my cock again? Tell me."

"Yes-"

Eddie bites down a curse, then blindly reaches down and pulls the seat handle again, the whole thing reclining with a loud click. He keeps you right in his lap, your surprised giggles bursting out as you follow down and land right on top of him, your tits pressed to his chest and his cock sliding even deeper, making you moan the second you're settled.

Your hands clumsily push up his shirt, shoving it over his head until it’s tangled in the backseat. You kiss him desperately, your lips dragging along his jaw, down to his throat, biting the spot that makes him gasp while your hips start to move again, finding a new rhythm.

The new angle is devastating.

With the seat fully reclined, Eddie is almost flat beneath you, and you’re sprawled across his chest, skin to skin, your breasts pressed tight against him as you rock your hips. Every roll forward drags your clit against the base of his cock; every slide back lets him sink impossibly deeper.

The car is cramped, the windows completely fogged by now, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat and the faint metallic tang of blood still drying on your knuckles.

Eddie’s gripping your ass, sliding his hand up your sweat-slick back, tangling his fingers in your hair to pull you down into another messy kiss. "Fuck, baby," he groans against your mouth, voice ragged. "You’re dripping down my balls--"

You whimper, biting his lower lip as you grind down harder, chasing that perfect drag. "Don’t stop, please-- more--"

His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing firm, slick circles that make your thighs shake violently. "That’s it. Use me. Take what you need."

"Fuck yes, right there," you gasp, nails raking down his chest hard enough to leave fresh red lines over his tattoos. You’re riding him like you’re trying to break him, hips slamming down with wet, filthy slaps that echo through the car.

Eddie’s hands are brutal on your ass, fingers digging in, rings cutting into your flesh as he yanks you down onto every thrust

You brace one hand on the foggy window, leaving a smeared handprint, and ride him faster. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting fill the car again. Obscene, filthy, perfect. Every time you slam down, his cock hits that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.

His head falls back against the seat, curls sticking to his forehead, eyes half-lidded and dark as he watches you. "You're so fucking perfect," he pants, making you laugh through your moans. "My beautiful, violent little goddess."

The laugh bubbles out of you again while you slam your hips down harder, chasing that perfect, devastating drag against your clit.

Eddie’s eyes flash with pure heat at the sound. "Fuck, I love that laugh," he growls, voice thick and smug. One hand cracks sharply across your ass, the sting blooming hot and bright.

You moan loud, the sound breaking into another shaky laugh as you ride him faster, tits bouncing wildly, sweat dripping down your spine. The car rocks harder with every slam, the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin echoing louder than before.

His palm connects again, harder this time, leaving a sharp smack that makes your pussy clench around him. "That’s it, baby, take it all." He grins, cocky and wrecked, thrusting up sharply to meet your next drop, driving himself even deeper. "My needy, greedy girl… I'm so gone for this pussy.”

You whimper, grinding down in tight, desperate circles, nails digging deeper into his chest. Eddie leans up suddenly, mouth latching onto your neck, licking a hot stripe up your throat before biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. His tongue soothes the mark immediately, then he’s kissing you again, messy and wild, tongues sliding, teeth clashing.

Another sharp slap lands on your ass, followed by a rough squeeze.

Outside, a car horn blares. Someone must have noticed the rocking car, the heavily fogged windows, the way the whole vehicle is jumping on its suspension. You don’t stop. Neither does Eddie. If anything, it makes him grin wider, darker.

"Let them watch," he pants, voice smug and possessive as he thrusts up harder, faster, one hand still slapping and gripping your ass while the other slides back between your bodies. His thumb finds your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, relentless circles. "Let them hear how loud my girl moans for me. This pussy is mine. You’re mine."

You’re close again, your thighs are trembling more violently, there's sweat pouring down your skin, your moans turn into broken, panting cries. Your hand slips on the foggy window, leaving another smeared streak as you brace yourself and ride him even harder.

Eddie’s eyes are black with lust and awe, his thrusts turning wild and deep. "That’s it, baby, cum for me. Cum all over my cock again. I’ve got you... fuck, I love you so much--"

You cry out sharply, body seizing as your pussy clamps down hard around him. Your hips stutter and grind desperately while wave after wave crashes through you, thighs shaking uncontrollably, moans loud and broken and shameless.

Eddie groans deep and raw, thrusting up through every pulse of your climax. He follows right behind you, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he cums with a guttural, wrecked moan. Thick, hot spurts flood deep inside you, his hips grinding up slow and possessive, spilling every drop while his arms band tight around your back.

You collapse against his chest, both of you panting hard, sweat-slick and trembling, hearts hammering together. The car is silent except for your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the seats. Outside, another distant honk fades into nothing.

Eddie’s hand strokes slowly up and down your spine, gentle now, protective. He presses soft, lazy kisses to your sweaty shoulder and neck.

Eventually, you shift slightly, making him groan under you, a lazy, overstimulated sound that pulls another quiet laugh from your lips. "You’re insane", he murmurs, tilting his head to look at you, eyes half-lidded, dreamy, still high on you.

You smile, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips, slow, softer now, your bodies humming from everything you just gave each other. 

His fingers curl at your waist, holding you in place. "You tore through the school like a goddamn hurricane. Punched Jason so hard he saw stars, told Higgins to fuck off and then rode me into another dimension." His voice is low. "I think I might be in love with you."

You grin, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead. "Might?"

"Okay, definitely in love with you." He kisses you again, slower now, lips lingering like he’s savoring you. "Like, I’d fight the entire goddamn world for you. Burn this town down if I have to. I meant it."

"You’re the only one who ever fought for me..."

His expression softens. "You fought for yourself today, baby. I just.... stood back and watched my girl become a legend."

You laugh, body still aching in the best way, sore and flushed and absolutely wrecked. "A legend with bloody knuckles and a growing criminal record?"

"Hot as fuck, if you ask me." He glances down at your hand, gently taking it in his, pressing a kiss to your bruised knuckles, "But also we should definitely ice this later.''

Eventually you lift your hips, slowly pulling off him and climbing back into your seat. You’re flushed, aching, your thighs trembling slightly from how hard you came. Eddie’s hands stay on you even as you shift away, one sliding down your back, another giving a lingering, fond squeeze to your ass that makes you squirm and laugh softly. His fingertips drift up, threading into your hair, smoothing it back from your sweaty face, trailing down your neck like he’s memorizing the feel of your skin.

You grab your hoodie off the floor, shimmying into it as he watches you. Then you fish your jeans up your legs, wincing as the rough denim scrapes your oversensitive skin. He chuckles, low and dirty, and tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping up with a wince of his own. You catch him tugging his shirt back down over his head, hair wild, cheeks flushed, the seat groaning as he yanks it back upright.

He leans forward and cracks the window open. The cold, misty air rushes in, cooling your overheated skin. Apparently, at some point during your car escapades, it started to rain.

Eddie fishes a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, lights it before offering you the pack. You take one, leaning over the console so he can light it for you. His lighter flickers, the flame dancing, and you take a shallow drag, just enough to let the ember catch.

You’re still bent close when, with a low chuckle, he steals the cigarette right from your lips. Carefully, he clamps both of them between his fingers, his free hand catching your chin, tilting you up toward him. He smells like sex and smoke and leather, like home. His lips brush yours in a warm, slow kiss, featherlight but somehow still devastating.

You sigh softly against him, eyelids fluttering close, hand lifting to cup his jaw. His stubble is rough beneath your palm, grounding you as he kisses you again, slow and deep and familiar. Your heart stutters painfully in your chest. Your cigarettes burn forgotten between his fingers, smoke curling around your faces.

"Couldn't help myself", he murmurs against your mouth, grinning when he pulls back, handing you your cigarette again with a wink.

Your cheeks burn with warmth, butterflies somersaulting in your belly as you lean back in your seat, your head resting against the window frame, smoking quietly as the rain drums harder against the roof.

Eddie cracks the window wider, letting the cool, rainy air sweep through the car, carrying the smell of wet earth and distant pine trees. The world outside feels a million miles away. Just you, him, and the open fields stretching out ahead, the dying town of Hawkins left behind.

You reach out without thinking, your fingers finding his. He laces them together easily, holding you tight as you both smoke in silence.

"You gonna tell me what happened in Higgins’ office?"

You sigh, dragging in a breath full of rain and smoke, then exhaling through your nose while flicking ash out the window. "He... talked everything down. Made it sound like I’m just... how did he call it? Oh, yeah. Emotionally tense. That's what he called me. Said it like I overreacted. Like it’s understandable, but still not okay." Your voice cracks a little, and Eddie's hand tightens around yours. "Said Jason’s getting ‘spoken to.’ That’s it. No real punishment. While I’m suspended for three days. No participation in extracurriculars for the rest of the semester. Detention every Friday until winter break." You snort dryly. "First day back and I'm already kicked out."

Eddie swears under his breath.

"Oh, and he wants me to write an apology to Jason", you add, huffing another disbelieving sound. "When he told me Jason won't face any punishment for what he did to me, I lost it. Told him we're done, that he can fuck off, and then I left. So, I'm actually not sure the old penalties are still up to date. Bet next time he sees me he'll stack them up. Maybe he'll kick me out for good, who knows."

Eddie stares at you. His cigarette burns down between his fingers.

You glance at him, see his jaw clenching, his knuckles whitening around your hand.

"Apologize to Jason?", he echoes. "They want you to apologize?"

You shrug, but it’s a bitter, defeated motion. "Yeah. Guess punching the school’s golden boy isn’t very ladylike."

Eddie lets out a harsh laugh, no humor in it. He leans his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car like he’s searching for patience somewhere in the fabric. Rain pelts harder against the roof, drowning out the world outside. You take another drag off your cigarette, the smoke burning a little harsher in your lungs now.

"I was so happy to come back," you murmur. "I kept asking Hopper when we could come home. I thought... I thought it would be different. Thought coming back would feel safe. Normal. Thought maybe... people would believe me." You shake your head, blinking against the hot sting building in your eyes. "But it’s all the same bullshit. Worse, even. Everyone talking, whispering. Looking at me like..." Your voice breaks, and you have to stop, biting the inside of your cheek until the pain grounds you again.

Eddie doesn’t interrupt. He just holds your hand tighter, his ringed thumb brushing slow, steady circles against your wrist, tethering you to him.

You swallow hard, forcing the words out. "This isn’t how I thought it would be. I didn’t think I'd be back for just one day before everything went to shit. I didn’t think I'd already be fucking suspended, already be the freak who ‘cried rape’ after screwing around with her ex. That’s what they think. That I cheated on you with Billy. Then regretted it and screamed rape." You blink fast, vision blurring. "Even after everything. After how bad it got. After Hopper. After the hospital. After the police reports and the fucking trial coming up. Even now... they don’t believe me." Your chest heaves, a silent sob getting stuck in your throat. "And deep down," you rasp, "I know that even if he gets convicted, even if Billy rots behind bars for the rest of his life, they still won’t believe me."

Eddie’s whole body shifts then. He turns, facing you fully, pulling your hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, hard enough that you can feel it deep in your bones. "Hey," he says, rough and urgent, "Look at me."

You do. Slowly. His eyes are burning, dark and fierce and heartbreakingly soft all at once.

"They don’t matter," he says. "None of them matter. You hear me, baby? Not Higgins. Not Jason. Not the brain-dead sheep at that fucking school. They don’t get to decide who you are."

You open your mouth to argue, but he shakes his head, leaning in closer, crowding your space.

"You’re strong, Sam. You’re brave. You’re fucking incredible. And you’re still here. Still fighting. Still you. That is who you are. Not some bullshit story they make up because they’re too fucking scared or too stupid to see the truth."

His words hit something deep inside you, something raw and bleeding and aching to be believed.

You press your lips together hard, trying to hold it all in, but your chin trembles anyway.

Eddie’s hands come up, cradling your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you didn’t realize had fallen. "I believe you," he whispers fiercely. "I love you, okay? So much. More than anything else in this fucked up world."

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, and somewhere beyond the fields, thunder rumbles low and deep. The sky flashes white as lightning forks across the horizon, lighting up Eddie’s face, the messy hair, the worried eyes, the swollen lips you kissed so hard only minutes ago. The cold wind whips through the cracked windows, carrying the smell of rain and wet leaves, making you shiver.

You want to fall into him. Let yourself break apart in his arms, sob and cry until there’s nothing left, let him piece you back together like he always does. You want that so bad it hurts. But then your gaze drops.You see your knuckles. Scraped raw, bruised already, the lingering sting from when you punched Jason Carver square in the face.

You stared him down and hit him. Not when he humiliated you. Not when he shamed you. Not when he spread filthy lies about you. You lost it when he went after Eddie. When he tried to hurt Eddie’s heart. His feelings. That’s what made you snap.

That's when it hits you.

I should have lost it the second he went after you.

The same way Eddie did. He stormed into that cafeteria without hesitation. Fought for you, screamed for you, threw himself in front of you like your own battered shield. He didn't hesitate to throw fists if needed, to shout, to make a fucking scene when you were the one being hurt.

And you... you stood there and took it. Let the whispers, the looks, the betrayal wash over you in silence.

Back in Indianapolis, you told Eddie you didn’t recognize yourself anymore. That the girl who clawed her way through every hellish night at home, who fought her mother’s drunk boyfriends, who fought her way out from under her father's fists, the girl who always fought back, that... she was gone. Replaced by this quiet, broken thing that flinched and cried and waited for someone else to save her.

You clench your bruised hand into a trembling fist.

No more.

No more.

You wipe at your face roughly, scrubbing the tears away like they're something shameful. You drag in a deep, shuddering breath. Another. And another. Breathing like you’re pulling all the weakness out of your lungs and burning it away with the smoke still lingering in the cold, wet air.

Done crying.Done hiding.Done being scared.

You’re not a broken little thing anymore. You’re not Billy’s victim. You’re not this town’s scapegoat.

You’re still you.

Eddie shifts, sensing the change in you instantly. His hands leave you, his breath catching, his body going tense and alert like he can feel the fight igniting in your chest.

You drag in a breath, but it’s not enough. Your chest feels too tight, your skin too hot.

You need more. More.

Before you can even think, you yank open the passenger door, your boots hitting the wet ground with a heavy thud. Rain lashes at you instantly, cold and wild, plastering your hair to your forehead, soaking your hoodie and jeans in seconds.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Eddie’s voice cuts through the downpour, sharp with panic as he watches you leave the safety of your car.

You hear the slam of his own door opening behind you.

"Babe, you can’t just-- Jesus Christ, it’s a fucking thunderstorm! You can’t be out here, you’ll get struck!"

You don’t care. You don’t care about the thunder rumbling like a giant waking up under the earth, or the sharp crack of lightning somewhere far off in the fields. You don’t care about the cold or the wind or the way your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin.

You barely hear him. You just stand there, chest rising and falling, the wind whipping at you, your breath fogging in the freezing air. You close your eyes and inhale, trying to breathe in something that doesn’t feel like Hawkins.

The smell of wet dirt. Cold pine.

You open your eyes again, staring down the long, soaked road that cuts through the empty fields. Somewhere beyond the trees, hidden in the gray, is the town you thought could be your new start. You thought maybe you could belong there. After everything in Chicago. After running and fighting and never being enough.

You thought maybe Hawkins would be different.

You were wrong.

You were supposed to find Eddie.Supposed to find Robin and Steve.Maybe supposed to fight this fight. Hopefully to win it.

And then... to leave.

Because nothing here is yours. Nothing holds you here except the people you love, and they don’t need this town either.

"Fuck this place", you mutter, barely louder than the rain.

You hear Eddie step closer, feel him at your back even though the rain’s pouring down harder now. He’s so close you can feel the way he’s trying not to grab you and drag you back into the car.

You wipe the rain, or maybe a tear, from your cheek and sniff hard, squinting out at the gray-washed world. The thunder rumbles somewhere far off again, but you don't move.

Eddie’s voice is softer when he speaks this time. "Come back in the car, sweetheart. Please."

You turn to him. He’s standing just a few inches away, the rain dripping from his hair, his hoodie plastered to his skin, breathing hard like he’s trying to keep it together.

You're stepping closer, the mud sucking at your boots, the rain soaking you through. Your hands find his hoodie, fisting the fabric tight, yanking him down to you, letting your lips collide with his. Hard.Teeth clashing, lips cold from the rain, mouths moving with a desperate, bruising need.

You’re not asking. You’re taking.

Eddie stumbles back half a step but catches himself, catching you too, one hand gripping the back of your neck, the other clutching your waist.

The thunder cracks overhead, the fields bends under the wind, and you kiss him harder, pouring everything you have left into it. The anger, the grief, the fear, the fight. You bite his bottom lip, just a little, and he growls low in his throat, kissing you back like he knows exactly what you need. Like he needs it too.

When you finally pull back, you're both panting, rain dripping off your faces, his forehead pressed to yours. Your hands are still fisted in his hoodie. His thumb is still rubbing slow, grounding circles into your waist.

And finally, even if it's just a spark, you feel it again.

The part of you that fights back. The part that flips the world off when it tries to break you.

You breathe him in. Smoke, rain, and Eddie. "I'm not done fighting," you whisper.

His chest heaves. His hand cradles the back of your head like he’s scared you’ll disappear. "Good," he says, voice rough, "Because this town’s not ready for you, sweetheart."

You huff a wet, broken laugh, wipe your rain-slick mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie, and finally take his hand.

"Let's go home."